


Tainted Love (A Need to Know Basis)

by choirofangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choirofangels/pseuds/choirofangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean knows there's a way to get Sam's soul back. Cas isn't talking, but he knows something, and torture is his last resort. Only, torture is a little different for angels and demons.</p><p>And it's especially different for Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tainted Love (A Need to Know Basis)

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought it was strange in _Appointment in Samarra_ (s06e11) that Dean came up with the idea all on his own that Death would be able to help him get Sam's soul back. Just as intriguing, Cas ended up unrealistically pissy with him for someone who was just trying to save his brother's soul.
> 
> The idea of Dean trying to elicit information out of Cas was too much to ignore. So I've taken it upon myself to fill in the gaps with porn.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Slightly non-con/no explicit agreement.

In a precedent set of circumstances, Dean is about to tie up a hostage for interrogation.

In an unprecedented set of circumstances, the hostage is Cas.

He really doesn't know how to feel about this. He isn't going to hurt Cas, not badly, certainly not kill him, but he'd give anything not to have to do this at all. Dean's convinced Cas knows how to get Sam's soul back, but he's not talking. He'd already asked Cas outright before planning to lure him here, so he'd done the decent thing, only that had been completely fruitless and now it's time for Plan B.

He drops his bag of things and sets to working out how he's going to do this, quite proud of himself all the while for figuring out how to trap an angel. Or, Cas, at least. He'd seen an old abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere two days ago and figured it was perfect for the job. 

Dean knows Cas isn't lying about not being able to get Sam's soul back himself, and that the soul might kill his brother, but he'd rather take that chance than deal with Dick Sam for what is left of their short, ridiculous lives. 

But he _also_ knows it's not uncommon for angels to omit pieces of truth to protect themselves. The thing is, Dean has to know the truth, regardless of what it means for Cas. He might be a little bit of a bastard, and if so, well then fuck it, he's a bastard, because his little brother comes first. 

Even if he is, currently, a soulless psychopathic douchebag.

He brings a wooden chair he finds in one of the dusty corners of the warehouse to the middle of the floor and nails it there, then pours a ring of Holy Oil in a wide circle around it. He takes several long lengths of rope, enough to bind Cas completely, and leaves them to soak in the jar for a little while.

Once they're completely soaked through, he takes a Zippo out his pocket, thinks as genuinely as he can, lights it and prays.

'O Castiel, angel of Heaven, Holy pain in my ass, I've found another piece of your disco stick, rod of-.'

Predictably, Cas appears behind him and Dean has to act _fast_. He grabs the rope, turns, grabs Cas, pulls him close and drops the lighter, setting the Holy Oil on the floor ablaze in one swift movement. Cas' eyes widen but Dean already has the rope tightly in hand, wrapping it around Cas' waist and tugging him towards the chair.

'This rope is soaked in Holy Oil, Cas,' he growls, Cas still pulled up flush against him. 'One wrong move and that's it. Now sit down.'

Cas dutifully obliges without a word and Dean sets to binding him, roughly tugging at his wrists and ankles until they stretch as far as he needs them to go. Cas is both pliant and silent; it's making Dean uneasy. Dean would have guessed he'd be asking irritating questions by now.

When he's tied up, eyes fixed on Dean, wrists bound behind the back of the chair and ankles bound to the chair itself, Dean picks up the Zippo and walks closer to Cas, taking one slow step at a time. He reaches inside Cas' trenchcoat and pulls out his angel blade. Dean is too clear-headed to kill him, wouldn't want to anyway, if he's honest with himself, regardless of the info embargo, but it's a good intimidation tool. He inspects the blade more closely, never having been so close to one before with so much time on his hands. It's beautiful, really, as far as blades go.

Cas' eyes are locked on him, tourmaline blues searching for answers. Dean keeps his gaze steadfast on the blade. He won't break first. He knows Cas, feels like he's been able to read Cas like a book since they'd first met, even if sometimes that book is in another language or needs better footnotes. He bets he knows things about him that Cas doesn't know about himself, it's just about finding them, testing for weaknesses, tapping for cracks.

A long time passes, he isn't sure how long, in total silence. He doesn't move, doesn't sigh, barely breathes. He just stands over Cas, waiting.

'Dean', Cas' voice comes eventually, low and rough, and only then does Dean look up from the blade. 'Dean.' Cas repeats, an edge to his voice that might either be threatening or scared, Dean can't tell. 'Why have you tied me up to give me the Rod of Moses?'

Dean barks out a laugh. 'I lied, Cas,' he admits. 'Remember, people do that? This is about Sam.'

'This is fruitless, Dean.' Cas chastises him. 'I have told you I cannot get his soul back and it would be more than unwise to do so!' he finishes the sentence on an angry yell. Clearly, angels don't like being held against their will.

'Yeah, you've said that,' Dean chides lightly, not rising to Cas' temper tantrum. He takes a step closer to him and hears his breath hitch in his throat, eyes flicking between his own and the blade. 'I'm just having a hard time, y'know?' Dean looks him straight in the eye, white hot power making him so scarily calm. 'I'm having a hard time believing you. You're not telling me everything, Cas.'

'Are you going to kill me, Dean?' Cas asks, confidence wavering, but he's not even trying the restraints.

'How can Sam get his soul back?' Dean barks, ignoring the question, stepping closer still.

'Are you going to kill me?' Cas repeats; he sounds angry, frightened, like a caged animal. It riles him up; Cas is doing this to himself.

'How can he get it back?!' he yells, walking behind Cas and bringing the blade to his neck. Not touching, just making sure Cas knows it's there and Dean isn't fucking around.

'No angel can retrieve your brother's soul and no human could survive doing so.' Cas replies, shaky and rough. He coughs and Dean tightens his grip on the blade, white knuckles in Cas' face.

'Then how, Cas?' Dean growls. 'You know. I know you do. I know you.'

'You will not kill me,' Cas challenges. His voice softens, resigned. 'I am too useful to you.'

Dean doesn't move, Cas solid and still underneath him. They hold that position for a long time, a silent threat, until Cas begins to twitch. It starts with his thighs, then his shoulders, then strangled coughs of 'Dean' that don't sound angry _at all_. Cas has betrayed himself and he doesn't even know it. 

Useful Dean always has a Plan B.

He sighs dramatically, playing up to his role, relinquishing Cas from his hold and walking around to face him, dropping the blade at his feet. 'Got me there, Cas' he admits, shrugging like the game is up and Dean's lost. 'M'not gonna kill you'.

This isn't news to Cas, not really, but relief floods over his face anyway. 

Dean's skin tingles with impatience. Cas is pinned back in the chair, looking steadfastly away from him. His face is flushed with the effort to hold himself in such a difficult position, ropes gripping him tight.

'We're not done here, Cas. You're gonna tell me,' Dean warns. He leans in, a tester, so close to Cas' face he can feel the warm intake of breath at having Dean so close. Dean narrows his eyes, a cat with a mouse between its paws. 'Aren't you?'

Cas is good at keeping secrets. He's not so good, however, at keeping them from Dean. Being so close to him, glances between them every single time it could be the last time they'll ever see each other, the unresolved tension that just keeps building and building. Dean had figured it was all in his head, all just him, the angel didn't know much about human custom or social etiquette, but he was wrong.

Now, he knows better.

'Dean I assure you if-' Cas starts, choking off with a groan because Dean's grabbed his inner thigh, not touching his dick but close. Dean can feel it, hot and half-hard. Begrudgingly, he admits to himself he would have liked to do this some other way, at least their first, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

So, tough shit, really.

Cas is panting. 'Dean,' he chokes. 'Dean, please. What are you doing?'

'Not such an angel after all,' he chuckles, sinking to his knees in front of Cas and picking up the blade. He shoves Cas' legs apart, eliciting a yelp of pain as his bonds are forced to shift themselves, and runs the blade under the button of Cas' pants, cutting through to-

Skin. Dean shivers because Holy _fuck_ that's hot.

'You're not wearing underwear, Cas,' he points out, looking up at him. His pupils have dilated so far it's incredible, Dean can barely see blue. His hair is sticking to his forehead, lips wet and open.

'Clothes are a human requirement,' Cas states like he has no idea why Dean has chosen to talk about boxer briefs at a time like this. 'I do not see what function they have for me. Or what this has to do with-'

'Shut up,' Dean snaps. He knows this is about Sam, knows he's going to have to talk about his brother, but fuck it's kind of a bonerkill. He just needs a minute to appreciate this, the obvious line of Cas' cock in his pants, the way his head is tilted back, biting his bottom lip through the damp breaths on the skin of his navel, neck pale and exposed, on show, all for Dean.

His back arches away from the chair as Dean unzips him and the cold air hits his hot skin. He hisses, the tingling, wanting feeling an entirely new sensation. He doesn't know what he wants, he just know he needs _something_. Needs _Dean_. 

Dean is hard in his pants already, has been since he'd had the blade on Cas' throat, aching against the confinement of his jeans and the sight of Cas' dick hardening into his view is almost enough to send him over the edge like he's fucking sixteen again. It's fucking perfect, pink head oozing droplets of precome for Dean to play with.

Now is not the time for play, though.

His mouth is watering and he swallows before he looks up at Cas. 'You're going to tell me how to get Sam's soul back,' he instructs. Cas opens his mouth to respond, nothing coming out except a loud, gargled shout of surprise when Dean takes his cock in hand, pulling it free from the damp fabric and licking a wet stripe of spit from the base to the head.

Cas' mouth gapes wide in shock, a hard, surprised moan falling from his bitten lips. Dean smirks, pleased chuckle in his throat, taking Cas' cock in between his lips and sinking down.

Dean likes to take his time, thinks Cas'll need it, slow stretch of his lips the only warning before Cas yelps at the wet hot heat of Dean's throat enveloping his cock. Cas moans appreciatively, tilting his head back again and beginning to enjoy the new sensations, pulling against the restraints, Dean's smile lost around his length.

Once Dean has as much as he can take in his mouth, he hollows his cheeks and begins to suck in earnest, bobbing his head, only giving Cas a couple of inches of cold air before he's taken in again. Dean almost chokes this way, but it's worth it to hear the noises Cas is making, feel his thighs shaking with the uncomfortable position they're tied in, ropes protesting the strain.

Whether it's an angel thing or Cas is just a virgin, Dean doesn't know, but he doesn't care either. It doesn't take long for Cas to start gasping, hips trying to buck up into Dean's mouth.

He pulls off, hand coming up immediately to lazily jerk him, not too much, not yet. 'We're on a need to know basis, Cas,' Dean drawls, wiping his mouth on the back of his other sleeve as he looks up at Cas from his knees. 'Which means I need to know and I _will_ find out. Do you understand?'

'Dean, I-' Cas starts, voice clearly wrecked from trying to keep control over it, but Dean just sucks the head of Cas' cock into his mouth and hums, letting the vibrations drive Cas wild. 

It's not very long before he's gasping Dean's name, shouting it like it's a curse word, throwing his head back as his balls draw up-

He shouts when Dean pulls off the first time, just before the first wave of his orgasm, a raw sound ripped out of him as it crashes, dead and frustrated. A string of come leaks from the tip of his cock, even though Dean can tell his orgasm didn't hit properly. So close, but not enough. Teetering on the edge. 

Cas needs to learn that Dean alone has the power to make Cas feel that good and he also has the power to take that away again. Cas' got tears in his eyes and he's almost got his teeth through his lip, eyes closed in concentration as Dean waits a little while, until he's almost certain Cas could speak if he wanted to, before sinking back down onto his twitching cock.

He hollows out his cheeks and swirls his tongue, taking him all the way down until his nose is buried in Cas' pubes. Dean listens to his tell-tale sounds, feels the throb of Cas on his tongue and knows he really is going to come this time, knows it from the throb and swell he feels on his own dick when he does this to himself jerking and stopping until he can't physically take his hand off his cock any more. 

'Ah- Dean- _please please ah_ -!' he begs, shameless and so loud anyone driving past could hear him. His entire body leans forwards, testing the bonds, beads of sweat dripping from his hairline into his eyes, salt-sting in the heat of the Holy Flame.

Secretly, Dean wants nothing more than to make Cas come, feel him shoot all the way down Dean's throat and scream it out somewhere above him. But there are more important things than watching the angel orgasm, like saving his little brother, and he has to remember that.

When he pulls off, Cas' cock jumps in his hand. He drops it, doesn't touch it, like it's as hot as the flame. It's red, spit-slick and visibly jerking in the open air. Fucking beautiful.

Not as beautiful, as the shout and thin high-pitched whine Cas lets out when Dean stops. Fucking shameless, Christ. He looks down at Dean in complete disbelief, panting, his hips jerking as much as the ropes allow, seeking friction.

Dean smirks up at him. 'Well, Cas? Are you going to tell me?'

' _Dean_ ,' Cas chokes back, voice hoarse and wrecked from shouting.

'C'mon Cas,' he breathes, resting his head near the top of Cas' thigh, exhaling on his twitching cock with every breath. 'Tell me how to get my brother's soul back and I'll give you what you want.'

'I don't-' Cas gasps, biting his lip and _pining_ when Dean's lips ghost over the line of his cock. 'I don't know, Dean, _please_.'

'I think you do,' Dean objects. 'Just gotta get it out of you,' he muses. 'Sure you don't wanna tell me?' he asks, voice light, tilting his head a little.

'I don't _kno- augh_!' Cas almost screams when Dean takes him in again, cock jerking and throbbing in his mouth. He can feel Cas pulling against his restraints and moves his hands up to pin his hips to the chair. Cas must know he's not going anywhere; Dean has him right where he wants him.

'Dean _please yes oh_ please don't _stop_ ,' Cas begs from somewhere above him. Dean steadfastly ignores it, pushing Cas' length further down his throat. One of his legs starts twitching uncontrollably with the intense sensation. Dean hums happily before pulling off again. A noise that's delightfully close to a sob falls out of his mouth, he's panting, so close, Dean doesn't risk putting another finger on him until he winds down a little.

Then he gets an idea.

'Don't stop?' he considers. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes,' he answers emphatically between gasps.

'Mm, I hoped you'd say that,' Dean admits, chuckling because Cas clearly doesn't get it, bliss all over his face as Dean's fingers wrap around his cock and start stroking, smearing the precome around, using it as lube.

So wound up, it doesn't take very long for Cas to get close. It's beautiful, feeling Cas' cock jerk in his hand, swell as his orgasm tightens, red and pulsating. Dean shifts to the side just before Cas starts spilling out onto the cold stone floor between his open legs with a loud cry of relief as his orgasm finally hits.

Dean doesn't stop even after Cas has ridden out the last of his orgasm. His expression is intense, brow set, resolve unwavering. He doesn't stop after Cas starts to pant, biting his lip, brow furrowed, hissing with the effort it's taking him not to scream. 

'Dean, Dean,' he whines. 'It's too intense, Dean.'

'I'm going to make you come, again, Cas just like this,' Dean reveals, Cas' eyes huge with shock. 'I'm going to make you come until you tell me how to get Sam's soul back.'

'I- I can't-' Cas starts, but he never finds out what he was about to say because he shouts, his leg jerking, dick softening but still hard in Dean's hand. Dean can feel it pulsing, desperate, his touch too much for Cas to handle even though his cock wants it. 

'Remember what I said, Cas,' Dean supplies, twisting his wrist around the head of Cas' cock, making him tilt his head back and shout, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, tears in his eyes. 'I won't stop, just like you asked.'

'No, _please_ ,' Cas gasps, bucking forward when he comes again, orgasm hitting him like a freight train. Dean makes a point of stroking around the base of his cock, careful not to get any more of Cas' come on his hands. He'll break quicker if it's rougher.

His touch must be agony. Cas is so beautiful like this, begging, cursing, whimpering, his whole body shaking in his restraints, face stained with tears, lips oozing blood. Dean can't get enough of knowing he's done this to Cas. He speeds up his strokes, anxious to see a third, letting himself go, letting him enjoy it-

'There's a way!' Cas yells over a dry sob. Dean looks up at him but doesn't take his hand off Cas' cock. Not yet.

'I'm listening, Cas,' he growls, coming back to himself. No, this is what they're here to do. He waits for vivid flashes of his time in Hell, but this is nothing like that.

'Le petit mort,' Cas mutters, quiet through his thoughts. It makes Dean angry.

'Cut the crap, Cas. What the fuck does that mean?' Dean's patience is wearing very, very thin, seeing Cas come undone for him like this, and he can't let Cas realise he's enjoying it, too; he can't.

'It's French-' Cas explains quickly, voice high-strung and tight. 'It means the little death, it's what they call an orgasm. I didn't know what- Why they call it that but- Now I do. God, Dean, I _do_.'

'Cas,' Dean warns, jerking him off a little harder. 'Sam's _soul_.'

'No, please,' he begs, cock red raw and still hard in Dean's twisting grip. 'Death. _Death_ can get it back.'

Of course. Why didn't Dean think of it before? Death sort of owes him one anyway and, wow, that's a weird thing to think. He stands, releasing Cas from his grip, smirking when he practically moans with the relief of it.

Dean hasn't really thought about this part. Cas could readily kill him if he lets him go but, of all the ways to die, Dean figures being killed by Cas is one of the better ones. At least it wouldn't be some dickhead vampire or a stray wendigo. He decides to take the risk and let Cas go anyway, figuring it might not be good for his angel kudos or whatever if he has to be rescued by some winged asshole while his junk's still hanging out.

The first thing he does is use a nearby bucket full of old rainwater to put out the fire, closing his eyes and waiting for the angel to break free. He doesn't, though, just sits there, body heaving with the effort it's taking him to try and get his breath back.

'C'mon,' Dean relents, softer now, moving to untie Cas from the chair. When all the bindings are undone he slowly, gently, lowers Cas to the floor. There are angry red rope burns on his wrists, his neck, shirt cut slightly round his waist where it had torn the thin fabric, white spots of material transparent, clinging to him with sweat. 

His blue eyes are pale and glazed over, mouth hanging open, breathing returning to normal. He has his head on Dean's chest, hard floor unforgiving and cold.

Dean doesn't say anything, doesn't know what to say, this intimate moment so new, fresh and raw for both of them.

'I'm going to start keeping secrets from you more often,' Cas whispers, voice so quiet and so small Dean barely hears it before he disappears in a flutter of wings.

Dean looks around, disappointed Cas is gone but figuring he got off easy. He has a way to get Sam's soul back; his plan had been a complete success. He isn't even thinking about whether it makes him a good or bad person when he lies back, shoves his hand in his pants and wraps his hand, still slick with Cas' come, around his own dick to jerk off, coming in his pants after only a few strokes.

Cas is pretty angry at him. Of course he is. Dean wouldn't have expected any less. What he _doesn't_ expect is to find a note under his pillow, months later, after Sam has his soul back, in Cas' spider-scruffy handwriting.

_Next time, don't waste the Holy Oil._

**Author's Note:**

> This may end up being a series, I'm not sure yet. Con-crit appreciated! All mistakes are my own. Despite my earlier notes, this is not secret canon, blah blah. How good would it be if it was, though?
> 
>  
> 
> [Hit me up on tumblr if you want me to write you some porn, free of charge. I can do that. I have few talents. This might be one of them.](http://choir-of-angels.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
